


Downfall

by JessBakesCakes



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:37:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessBakesCakes/pseuds/JessBakesCakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim wasn't able to transfer out of Scranton after Casino Night. Where does he stand with Pam? And what happened while he was gone? Jim/Pam AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Uneased

6:24.

He hadn't slept much that night. The room was a decent temperature, his roommate didn't have anyone over, and he wasn't physically ill. He should have been able to get a solid eight hours of sleep before his first day back.

But he didn't.

Instead, he was up all night, trying to figure out how to deal with the flashbacks of that night. He thought back to the way her hair was pinned up, giving him the perfect view of her eyes. He remembered the way she teased him at the poker table and how she giggled when he teased her. But he wanted to forget how it felt to hold her in his arms after feeling the pain of being rejected.

In the back of his mind, he could hear Pam try to justify her rejection, and it made him sick to his stomach. Anger, embarrassment, and complete confusion came together like ingredients in a blender when he realized that the incident seemed to be playing on an endless loop. For a moment, he wished he could take the kiss back if only he could trade it for a sense of normalcy. To be able to saunter up to the reception desk and invent pranks. To pass the time by sending her instant messages or e-mails. To just close enough to her in the break room to be able to smell her apple scented shampoo.

To have just some of the hope he used to have before his confession.

He sighed. The hope was gone now. But even so, he didn't exactly wish he could take the whole thing back. He wanted to take select moments from that night to piece them together and make his own twisted version of reality. He knew it was stupid to be so in deep in denial over something he couldn't change, but it seemed to be the only way that he could get through another day while he was away.

He wanted to kiss her again more than anything. He remembered exactly how her hands felt, moving from his shoulders, into his hair, and then to his chest. And the kiss itself. All the emotions he had been holding in for so long were channeled in the kiss. It was by far the best kiss he ever had. And the worst. Even if things were never right between them again, he would always, always remember that kiss. As much as he wanted to pretend that it didn't matter the memory of that kiss alone would prove that he still wanted to be with her.

Sure, there was something to be said about having his feelings out in the open. In fact, it was a relief. But what good was it if he and Pam didn't end up together? Jim knew that it was a risk, telling Pam that he was in love with her. He had tucked away the possibility of being rejected in the back of his mind, never truly believing that she would reject him, even though he knew that there was a good chance that it would happen. He hadn't prepared himself, because he had hoped her reaction would be entirely different, and now the possibility had become a haunting reality.

And he was still searching for a way to deal.

But he didn't _want_ to deal with it. He wanted to continue hiding in denial. He wasn't ready to return to Dunder Mifflin, knowing that things would be exactly the same as they used to be, and yet completely different.

He would sit at the same desk. She would still answer the phones. But he would have to physically stop himself from getting up and wandering toward the front of the office. He would have to make a conscious effort to avoid the little touches and the flirtatious smiles. He realized his daily routine had just been drastically altered.

He turned over and looked at the clock.

6:28.

Jim had tried to avoid thinking about it the entire time he was away, but the moment was coming closer. He spent most of his trip to Australia trying to get in contact with Jan about openings in Stamford, Utica, Nashua, or anywhere that would allow him to get away from Scranton. It hurt too badly to stay. He hoped that being far away would help the situation. But there wasn't a single opening in any of the other branches.

He remembered the night Jan returned his calls. She seemed to have some sympathy for him, which made the whole thing worse, but she couldn't offer him a position anywhere else. Jim couldn't grasp the idea of having a full sales staff in every branch, but after some thought, he realized that with the potential downsizing hanging over their heads, it was probably true. Jan was right. They didn't have another spot for him, so he was out of luck. He was stuck in Scranton with Pam.

That shouldn't have been a bad thing. But all the old memories, all the moments they shared, and ultimately, her rejection, would haunt him every day when he walked into work. And knowing that he couldn't even dream of being with her again was going to torture him.

And now, his return to Dunder Mifflin Scranton was merely hours away.

He wondered how everything would go that morning. He knew she would be there. He would walk through the door, and then what? He had visions of wedding and honeymoon pictures floating around the office. Visions of Kelly begging to help Pam prematurely choose names for her children with Roy. Visions of Michael giving Roy the 'atta boy' look every time he came upstairs. Visions of sitting at his desk, looking up at Pam and knowing that she would no longer look back at him and smile like she used to.

And he wasn't sure he could deal with that.

The alarm clock buzzed, jolting him out of his thought process. Normally, he would hit the snooze button a few times, roll out of bed and get dressed before arriving fashionably late to work. But today, he found himself agonizing over everything he did, trying to find a way to push back his return a little bit more. He brushed his teeth twice, and actually ironed his shirt. He made and ate a second breakfast before finally giving up. What was it going to do for him? He wasn't trying to impress anyone. All he wanted to do was delay going back to Scranton as much as possible.

Jim got in the car and started the drive to work. On a morning when he had a meeting with a client, the drive would have taken much longer than it should have. But this morning, he found himself sitting in his car, parked in the Scranton Office Park, in less than ten minutes. There wasn't much sense in waiting, he decided as he grabbed his messenger bag, threw it over his shoulder, and got out of the car. Putting it off wasn't going to make him feel any better.

He took a deep breath as he locked the car door and walked inside the building. As he waited for the elevator to make its way up to the office, a little part of him wanted to get back in his car and go home. Okay, a big part of him wanted that. He glanced at the buttons, seriously considering making an escape before anyone saw him. Instead, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, forcing himself to accept the idea of returning to work.

The elevator arrived on Dunder Mifflin's floor and Jim made his way inside. The moment he walked in, as if on cue, everyone in the office turned to look at him. He shot the cameras a confused glance and then turned toward Pam, who was completely oblivious to the whispers and the activity going on around her as she answered the phone. He wasn't sure if he should approach her, walk right past her, or give an awkward wave from his desk.

He shook his head at his own indecision and walked past Pam's desk, taking a seat at his own. He knew that no matter how he acknowledged Pam that day, she still chose to marry Roy. Things weren't going to be the same. It wasn't like stopping to steal a jellybean before he sat down was going to erase what happened between them. Jim reached over and turned on his computer. As he waited for it to start up, he looked over at Pam's desk once again. Sure, it was against his better judgment, but he couldn't seem to keep his eyes away from the front of the office.

He watched as she hung up the telephone and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. She reached for a pencil and turned toward what he assumed was her sketchbook to continue what she was doing. Jim picked up his phone and grabbed a pad of post-its, listening to his voicemail but not really paying attention. He was too busy chastising himself for continuing to stare. She looked up from her work and glanced in his direction. At first she seemed startled to see him there. Her eyes widened as she quickly reached for a random folder on her desk to look as though she was busy. After a moment of pretending to occupy herself, she glanced up once again. The way she did it made Jim feel as though he had been punched in the gut. It was definitely a curious glance, almost as though she was looking to see if he was still staring at her. Determined to at least try to alleviate the awkwardness, he motioned toward his phone and rolled his eyes as if he were complaining about the number of messages he had to listen to.

Her face flushed and she gave him a half smile. For a moment, their eyes locked, and he started to feel a twinge of guilt for being unable to keep his eyes off of her. But the way she looked back at him gave him an odd sense of normalcy, which he thought should bother him more. Things were hardly normal. He felt the familiar spine tingling, the familiar stomach flop, and the familiar rush of happiness he was trying to avoid letting into his life.

He tried to convince himself that he couldn't possibly feel exactly the same about her now that things were so different.

Or could he?

Before he had much of a chance to think about the ramifications of their new dynamic, Michael's office door swung open.

"Crikey, look who has returned from Down Under!" Michael said in a terrible Australian accent.

Dwight emerged from the office, standing next to Michael. "I'm surprised he wasn't eaten by a pack of dingoes," he said, crossing his arms. "He has no survival skills."

"You're talking about him like he isn't here, Dwight. Do you realize how rude that is? How do you think he feels? That's not a very nice welcome back for a weary traveler like Jim."

"He's hardly a weary traveler," Dwight snorted. "His symptoms of desynchronosis would have faded yesterday if he had any."

"Dwight, seriously, you're being completely insensitive to Jim, after all he's been through."

Dwight shook his head. "I'm sorry, Michael, I don't speak to traitors."

"You do realize that I'm sitting here, right?" Jim interrupted as he hung up the phone and leaned back slightly in his chair. "And why am I a traitor?"

Michael looked at Dwight, and then at Jim. "Yeah, why's he a traitor again?"

Dwight glared at Michael as Jim shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had a feeling that he knew what was coming. He tried to avoid conversation by turning around in his seat to face his desk. Suddenly, he felt a hand on the back of his chair, and he was jerked around to face Dwight and Michael. Dwight grasped the arms of Jim's chair and leaned in closer to Jim.

"Jim Halpert put in a request to be transferred to another branch," Dwight said in a low voice.

Michael nodded as the information that he had previously received came back to him. "Yeah, God, Jim, you're such a traitor! I can't believe you would want to leave Scranton! Scranton is a family, why would you want to leave your family?"

Jim shot Pam an uncomfortable glance as he tried to pull his chair away from Dwight. She looked away as soon as his eyes met hers, but he saw the expression on her face before she turned toward the phone. She was definitely hurt. And just like that, the comfortable familiarity they had for just a moment slipped away. He was crushed when he realized that he had to explain his actions not only to Michael and Dwight, but to Pam. He took a deep breath. "I'm not a traitor, let me—"

Dwight grabbed the arm of Jim's chair once again, pulling it toward him and nearly knocking it over. "As Lackawanna County volunteer sheriff's deputy—"

"Didn't you give up your badge?" Jim interrupted.

"I had access to the company's phone records. I have friends who can see any phone call you made to Jan, as well as the times and dates they were placed. How do you know we didn't already have your phone lines tapped? Do you care to retract that statement?"

Jim shook his head. "Uh, no, not really."

"You could really do that?" Michael asked, his eyes wide with disbelief. Dwight turned toward Michael as if to answer the question and Michael shook his head firmly. "Forget it, Dwight, you can't interrogate Jim. He is still a member of our family, and we welcome him back. Like the guy with the rainbow coat. But he does owe his family an explanation of why he wanted to leave us!"

"Michael, you realize that if Jim talked to anyone from corporate, that's confidential, right?" Toby asked, approaching Michael and Dwight.

"You know what, Toby? I wouldn't be surprised if Jim didn't want to leave because of you. You are the pimple on the ass of this office—" Michael took a deep breath, regained his composure, and continued. "But, you know, Jim, you and I are friends, we're buddies. And I think that I deserve to know why you wanted to leave."

"Why would I tell you that?" Jim asked.

"Because, Jim! You and I have a bond! We share our deepest, darkest secrets—" Michael said as he shot Jim a glance. Jim knew that Michael was trying to entice him to share more, so he fought to avoid further questioning. He stared blankly at Michael, trying not to give him any hints. Confused, Michael looked at Jim, and then at Pam, and back at Jim again. He gasped. "You don't know, do you? Jim doesn't know!"

Jim rubbed his temples for a moment, hoping that Michael would soon leave him alone. He put his chin in his hand and leaned against the arm of his chair. This couldn't be good. He glanced over once more at the reception desk, where Pam had stopped in her tracks on the way to the filing cabinet.

"What doesn't he know? He's a traitor; he knows everything about this office and he is probably feeding information to other branches. I don't trust him," Dwight added.

Jim motioned to a stack of papers on his desk. "You know what, I really have a lot of work to do, so—"

"He doesn't have to feed information to any other branch," Michael interrupted. "He can stay right here, everyone, because guess what? He left because of Pam, who broke his heart because she was going to marry Roy." Michael looked down at Jim, almost as if he were seeking confirmation. When Jim didn't react, Michael continued. "Well, Pam didn't marry Roy, and now the only other branch Jim needs to consider consulting with is the— what's that branch you give to someone, metaphorically, when you want to make up with them?" Michael asked, turning to Dwight.

"Olive branch," Dwight answered quickly.

"Yes, that's right, the olive branch, to make peace, so he can be with Pam now."

Jim drowned out the rest of the conversation and turned toward Pam's desk. She didn't marry Roy.

His head started pounding. The revelation was supposed to make this whole situation easier to deal with. Technically, it did. He still had a chance. Pam didn't go through with the wedding. All of the scenarios he imagined that morning were irrelevant now. Why wasn't he happy about that?

Maybe it was because the only way he could deal with Pam's rejection was his naïve mantra that if Pam was truly in love Roy, then he was happy for her.

But she wasn't in love with Roy. She didn't marry Roy. She still rejected him. He just couldn't deal with that.

He needed to talk to her. He didn't want to. But he had to.

He looked up at the desk to find that Pam was gone. Part of him felt incredibly guilty. He wanted to go after her and try to patch things up. Or at least try to explain his reasons behind transferring. She would understand, right? But the other half was relieved; he had a chance to practice the avoidance technique he had mastered since the night in the office.

Jim turned back to his desk, reaching for the telephone once more. He realized that he didn't really stick around to see how she dealt with his confession. He took off to Australia, determined to be as far away from Pam as possible on her wedding day. He didn't even intend to return to Scranton. Ultimately, he wasn't really sure how she was feeling. Was she just as confused as he was? He glanced toward the break room, wondering where she had gone to escape.

He felt like he had been punched in the gut. He felt like he had somehow betrayed Pam by trying to transfer. For years, she was the only person in the office who he cared about. Pam was his best friend, and he hurt her. Not only was she reeling from adjusting to the idea that her best friend was in love with her, and the breakup with Roy, now she had to deal with her personal life being flaunted around the office. She was probably embarrassed, angry, and confused, just like he was. Jim hated knowing he was directly responsible for those feelings she was probably having.

His head pounded as he attempted to put the entire situation in perspective. It wasn't fair that she had to find out about his almost departure from Michael. Sure, he could have contacted her from Australia, but he wasn't the only one who was wrong, was he? Pam wasn't exactly secret-free herself. He didn't deserve to hear about Pam's non-wedding from Michael. He deserved to know from Pam.

Non-wedding.

Jim couldn't stop thinking about the idea that Pam wasn't married. He had prepared himself for the day with the knowledge that when he walked through the doors that morning, he would have to deal with the fact that Pam would be Roy's wife. It wasn't like he had exactly come to terms with the idea, but it was the only thing about the whole ordeal that he kept constant in his mind.

The news that she wasn't married almost taunted him. For some reason, he couldn't allow himself to get comfortable with the idea that she wasn't Roy's wife.

He couldn't stop questioning everything about the situation. Why didn't she marry Roy? How soon after the confession did it happen? How was Pam handling the breakup? Did Pam think about Jim at all in this decision? Who did the breaking up? Who was the one that was dumped? Did Pam tell Roy about the kiss?

Jim sighed. Did she break up with Roy over what happened that night? Was it possible that she had feelings for him, too?

He couldn't help but wonder if he shouldn't have told her how he felt. Maybe things would have been different if Jim hadn't said anything. If he didn't, would she still be with Roy? Maybe. But there was also that slim chance that if he would have just kept his mouth shut, he could be with Pam right now. Jim sat back in his chair, trying not to think about it. There was no use in playing 'what if' when Pam wasn't married to Roy.

Michael and Dwight continued to discuss Jim and Pam's love life and Jim's attempted departure. He tried to ignore them and concentrate on his voicemails, but he was unable to avoid thinking about Pam.

Sure, she wasn't married to Roy. But did that mean that Pam and Roy were done for good. Were they officially over? Maybe they were still engaged, but they just postponed the wedding again. What if they were really done? Would Roy try to win Pam back? Had he already tried? What would Pam do in that situation? Would Pam take Roy back?

He shuddered. Jim wasn't prepared to deal with the idea that Roy could still be involved in Pam's life. If Roy was still around, Jim knew that he wouldn't be able to stand it. They would be back to where they started. Jim was sure that he would have to look for work outside Dunder Mifflin if Roy and Pam were still together. He simply couldn't take going back to square one. Not after all they had been through.

But for now, Jim needed to focus on what he did know. Pam wasn't married to Roy, Jim was still in Scranton. And somehow, the entire situation just got more complicated.


	2. Lay It Down

The day seemed to drag on for Jim. Avoiding further questions from Michael and Dwight was the least of his problems it seemed. All morning he'd noticed how different things were since his return. In the short period of time he was gone, Jim agonized over how everything would be once he went back to work. He knew things would be more difficult after having anticipated his return to Dunder Mifflin for the past week, only to come back and have to deal with the fact that Pam was married. The fact that she wasn't should have made things easier. Somehow, things felt worse than he could ever have imagined.

He had to stop himself from loitering at her desk, waiting for her to finish up her paperwork before she clocked out for lunch. Instead, he headed for the break room, walked toward the soda machine and flattened his dollar bill on the side of the machine. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Meredith, Phyllis, Angela, and Kelly huddled at the vending machine beside him.

"I heard he like, poured his heart out to her. And she rejected him. And then they did it on Michael's desk, and Pam had to break it off with Roy. Now, I'm not sure about the rest, but one of the guys in the warehouse told the hot trainee security guard that totally loves me in that pink dress I wore yesterday that Roy punched Jim's lights out and Jim punched back. Now he has a restraining order, and that's why he had to transfer," Kelly babbled, oblivious to the fact that Jim was standing right next to her.

He cleared his throat and Kelly turned around, grinning at Jim as though nothing had happened. "Hi, Jim! How was Australia? Did you see Nicole Kidman while you were there?"

Jim shook his head, removing his soda from the machine and walking toward the break table. "Actually, no, I didn't."

Kelly followed him to the table. "Ugh, that sucks. But you so would have gotten an autograph for me, right? You know I love her. She's so gorgeous. I love her accent. Did you feel yourself picking up an accent when you were there? When I went to Texas to visit my dad's sister, I found myself saying y'all, like, all the time for about a month. Did you see any baby kangaroos? Aww, they must have been so cute! And aren't wallabies from Australia?"

"Kelly, he was listening to you. He knows you were talking about him," Angela interrupted, squeezing some Purel onto her hands.

Kelly giggled, embarrassed that she had been caught. "Sorry, Jim. When I heard all that stuff they said about you, I stuck up for you and said that you would never swing back at Roy. I mean, it's common sense, you know? You're taller, but Roy is really big. He's the type of guy who's really, I don't know, strong and manly. Not that you're not strong. I'm just saying that Roy would probably be the guy I'd pick against almost anyone in a fight. You know what I mean? But regardless, I totally chewed them out and told them that you wouldn't hit Roy. You're too… nice to do that."

He nodded. "Good to hear it," he said, taking a bite of his sandwich as Kelly retreated to the other side of the table next to Phyllis. Jim couldn't help but notice the obviously empty seat next to him.

By mid afternoon, Jim decided that he had dealt with the frustration of his fallout with Pam for long enough. He'd already eaten lunch alone, and he got about halfway to Pam's desk before realizing that it probably wasn't a good idea to steal some candy to settle his grumbling stomach. He made a detour to the vending machine, staring blankly at its contents. He tossed the change back and forth between his hands, looking at his own reflection in the glass.

He walked back to his desk empty handed, and slipped the change back into his pocket. He dialed a number on his sales sheet, being as friendly as possible to the person on the other line, but knowing that his heart just wasn't in it. He listened to the voice on the other end as he turned toward the reception desk.

"I'll be sure to fax that to you right away, Mr. Trent," he said absently into the telephone. He blindly reached for a post it note, writing all the necessary information on it so it could be handed to Pam to fax. He cringed. Mr. Trent could wait, he decided. It wasn't like he was a big account, anyway. And he did mention something about leaving for a vacation.

Jim hung up the phone and sighed. After returning all of the calls he missed while he was away, he decided that he deserved a break. He clicked idly with his mouse, creating a square around all of his icons. Soon, after rearranging his icons, cleaning out some old files, and checking his work email for the first time in months, he wandered into the games folder. Before he knew it, all of his remaining Free Cell cards shot up to the top of his screen, twisting yet another knot in his stomach. There wasn't a single thing he could do in this office that wouldn't remind him of Pam.

He glanced over at the reception desk, only to find it empty yet again. He wasn't sure what bothered him more; the fact that she looked away whenever he tried to make eye contact, the fact that she was constantly away from her desk, or the fact that she had her back to him more now than she had in all the years she had known him. He didn't want to think about it, but the gaping hole in reception was forcing him to do just that.

He'd always been a guy who had this need to fix things. And right away. He was a pretty good listener, and he'd heard that he was great at giving advice or being there for someone when they were upset. It was one of his best and worst traits. He absolutely hated seeing someone he cared about being unhappy. He knew he had to fix things with Pam. He wanted it to be over and done with so he could feel better about the situation. But it bothered him that this wasn't going to be a quick fix. This would take time, a lot of it. It would probably get worse before it got better. He hated that.

But he knew that if he didn't start trying to fix it now, it would probably never get fixed. He had to do something. But what? He watched as Pam sat back down at her desk, picking up the telephone and dialing without looking up. She held the phone in her left hand and a pencil in her right, writing something on a piece of paper beside her.

"Jimmy Dean!" Michael shouted, emerging from his office. "Step into my office for a moment."

Jim sighed, following Michael into his office and taking a seat on the other side of the desk. Michael quickly shut the door and sat down, folding his hands in front of him.

"Look, Jim, I know you're a little bummed out over this thing with Pam. Your heart is still being stomped on, and ripped into little pieces. And probably chopped up into smaller pieces—"

"Is there a reason you called me in here?" Jim asked, interrupting Michael's train of thought.

"You and Pam need to work this out," Michael stated simply, leaning back in his chair. "Like I said earlier, we are a family here. If members of the family are fighting, it affects the rest of us. It brings everybody down, and we all feel like we want to lock ourselves in our rooms and watch _Stepmom_ for the 137th time."

"You've watched _Stepmom_ over a hundred times?"

"I watch it when I'm sad, it's good for a release… can we focus here, please?"

"Sure, of course," Jim said with a nod.

Michael sighed. "When I announced that Pam wasn't married—"

"Which wasn't right, by the way. She should have been able to tell me that on her own," Jim offered.

"Okay, you know what, Jiminy Cricket? I am your boss. I am the head of this family. And I know what's best for you guys. And right now, what's best for you is to talk to Pam and to work things out. You guys were BFFs before. And I know you really liked her, and I know it was probably hard to watch her rip your heart out and eat it for dinner, but you need to put all of that past you and start over," Michael insisted.

Jim cringed at the imagery Michael presented. "Uh, thanks, Michael, but I don't think right now's a good time to talk to her. Everything's still fresh. We'll talk eventually."

"There's no time like the present, my friend," Michael said, walking around his desk and giving Jim a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Think about it, all right? And if you need any advice, Dr. Ruth's door is always open."

"I hope you mean Dear Abby," Jim said, horrified at Michael's misplaced reference.

"God, no, Dear Abby is that doctor who gives out way too much information about her sex life," Michael said, opening the door for Jim.

Jim walked to his desk, placing his hands on the back of his chair as he took a look at Pam's empty desk once again. Leaning there for a moment, he watched the desk closely, hoping Pam would appear. Slowly, he grew more and more impatient. He walked away and started toward the door, unsure of where he was really going. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, walking out of the office, and before he knew it, he was up on the roof. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, taking a deep breath and wondering how he could get Pam to listen to him. He was sure once he explained it all to her, she would understand. There would be a lot of awkwardness and arguing and frustration, sure, but he was ready to lay it all down for her, to explain how he felt, to try and repair what was left of the friendship they once had.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some movement. His heart began to beat faster as he realized it was Pam. He stood, frozen in place as he watched her slip off her pink cardigan sweater and place it on the ledge next to her, revealing her short sleeved blouse. She leaned forward against the ledge, looking out at the parking lot below.

He wasn't sure what to do next. Should he talk to her? He didn't want to scare her. Staring at her wasn't exactly the best option, either. His thoughts jumbled as he watched her take out the barrette in her hair, placing it on top of the cardigan. She slipped a hair elastic off her wrist and gathered her hair into a low ponytail. She turned around, seemingly surprised to see Jim there. She quickly looked away, but it was almost as though she knew Jim had seen her. She turned toward Jim and gave him a weak smile. "This is uh, a good way to clear your head."

Jim nodded. "Yeah. Sure is," he said, walking toward Pam and leaning backward against the ledge.

Their eyes met for a moment and she looked away, returning to her original leaning position. They sat for a moment in a painful silence as she picked up the barrette next to her and clicked it open and shut. He wasn't sure what to say to her. He wasn't even sure if she was ready to talk. All the feelings of anger, rejection and heartbreak swelled up again, his hands clenched and his head pounding. He turned around, leaning against the ledge in a similar fashion to Pam. Unable to take the silence any longer, he pointed out at the Scranton skyline.

"See that building right there, next to the cloud that looks like Dwight's head? That was my elementary school."

Pam merely nodded, avoiding eye contact.

"Actually, that cloud may look more like Kevin. It's got kind of a large head."

"Jim—"

"And about a block away, right next to that scary, Alfred Hitchcock looking crow on the power line? That's the Boys and Girls club. I used to play basketball there every day after school. Until my school got its own team, we played other Boys and Girls clubs in the area. I'm pretty sure there's still an embarrassing picture of me in a t-shirt and ugly shorts next to the trophy in the trophy case. At least, that's what my nephew said."

"Listen—"

"And if you walk around the other side of the roof, I think you can see Scranton High. Not positive, but I think that's it."

"I didn't call off the wedding because of you," she blurted out, turning to her right and leaning her elbow against the ledge as she spoke.

Jim said nothing. He straightened up, crossing his arms, and looked beyond Pam, out into the parking lot. Jim squinted in to the sunlight, and looked back at Pam, trying to comprehend what she had said. His expression was blank, but he took a few steps back toward the door through which he exited the building. He noticed her face turn pale as she seemed to realize the effect her words had on him.

"I didn't mean it like that. What I meant was—"

He used his hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he looked at her. "You didn't call off the wedding because you realized you were in love with me. I get it. You already made the fact that you weren't interested perfectly clear. Twice. In one night. Oh, and after we spent the evening up here, when you denied that it was a date. So, I guess that makes three times."

A breeze blew across the roof at that moment. The leaves on the trees below rustled and Pam shivered slightly. Jim knew that the shiver wasn't from the rush of cool air. Sure, what he had said was pretty harsh, but it was a justified response to something like Pam's admission. The apologetic look on her face disappeared, and he saw a wounded look in her eyes. His heart sank as he saw the transformation that his words had caused. A part of him wanted to apologize, talk it out, smooth things over. But things were far too complicated to patch up with a hug and an apology.

"Jim, I wasn't trying to hurt you. I was just trying to explain," Pam said, looking down at her shoes. She paused for a moment before she looked up, changing her tone entirely. "And you know what? You have some explaining to do yourself."

"Oh yeah? What do I have to explain?" Jim asked, frustrated. "I think my motives are pretty obvious in this situation, don't you?"

"Oh, no, there's plenty for you to explain," Pam seethed. "Like the fact that you took off to Australia, then you tried to transfer somewhere else." Pam's voice was frantic and pained as she spat out the last part of the sentence. She threw her hands in the air, and let them drop to her sides as she continued. "I don't know what part of that you don't think needs more explaining."

Jim raised his eyebrows. "Wow, because I can't find a part of it that does. I left because of you, Pam. For so long, I waited for you to notice how I felt about you. Sometimes I thought if I waited long enough, you would see. You would change your mind; something in you would just click and everything would be right, and we could be together. That night, I let everything out. I told you how I felt. I told you that I was in love with you. You rejected me. Tell me what part of that scenario warrants a courtesy call to let you know I was transferring because you broke my heart."

"We were friends, Jim!"

"Yeah, you're right. We were friends. And I told you I was done with being just friends." He turned toward the door to the roof and walked downstairs without looking behind him.

He glanced at the clock as he passed his desk. It was five minutes past five o'clock, and it was finally time to get out of there. He quickly grabbed his jacket, flung his messenger bag over his shoulder, and walked out to his car without saying goodbye to anyone he passed. He sat in the car for a moment before putting the key in the ignition, closing his eyes and hoping that he would wake up to find that this terrible day had all been a dream. But he had no such luck.

He put the car in drive and started the trip back home, entertaining the idea of plastering his resume all over the internet when he got home.


	3. All That's Within You

As the next few weeks passed by, Jim was slowly getting used to the new situation with Pam. He had moved past the point of avoiding the reception desk, and would flash Pam a smile or an exaggerated roll of his eyes when each was appropriate. But the tension was still palpable. They no longer sat together in the break room or at Poor Richard's. His productivity had slightly increased now that he was spending more time at his desk and less time stealing candy from Pam.

Jim had settled into the routine, but he didn't like it at all. He still caught himself staring at her, wishing that he could waltz up to the desk and laugh with her about her latest sketch of Dwight. Sometimes he found himself within moments of pressing 'send' on an e-mail to her. Sometimes it was a joking message, and others it was a more serious e-mail, examining the current state of their friendship and comparing it to how things used to be. But the e-mails remained in his draft box.

He still wasn't quite sure if Pam was ready or willing to patch things up. Until Michael announced the passing of Ed Truck. As Michael grieved the loss of his former manager in a very Michael-esque way, Jim and Pam found themselves in an impromptu grief counseling session. Jim was only half paying attention to the rules of the game Michael had invented, but he was almost positive that Pam's own spin on _Million Dollar Baby_ had nothing to do with these rules.

It was almost as though Pam's flash of genius made Jim miss her even more. She was sitting in the same room as him, but it was almost like they were even more distant than they were before. He was proud of her brilliantly crafted response to Michael's game, and he wanted to tell her that. He wanted to ask her how she kept a straight face and how she refrained from laughing. He wanted to know if she saw the look on Ryan's face when she started, and how she felt when Kevin butchered her idea at the end. But he couldn't ask her.

Technically, that wasn't true. He could ask her. But he knew that if he did, the response wouldn't be the same as it would have been before this whole thing happened. As Michael lamented the loss of a bird that he swore Toby killed, Jim trudged back to his desk, leaning his chair back and moving his mouse to bring his computer out of sleep mode. Three games of minesweeper later, he saw an e-mail alert in the corner of his screen. He opened his inbox and stared at the 'sender' column for a moment. It was from Pam.

He sighed. Pam probably sent office-wide emails several times a day. He would know better if he bothered to read these e-mails, but nonetheless, he assumed it was work related. A small smile appeared on his face as he read the subject line, 'Does the PPC cover bird funerals?' He quickly opened the e-mail.

_"I've been guilted into making a bird coffin. And planning a bird funeral. Somehow I don't recall this being in my job description when I signed all that paperwork when I got hired. But who reads that stuff anyway?_

_A little help, please?_

_-Pam"_

Jim immediately stood up from his chair and approached the reception desk. It wasn't exactly like old times, but it was a start. Leaning on the desk and reaching for a jellybean, Jim noticed that Pam had several different sized boxes sitting on her desk. "Are those the bird coffins?"

"Yeah. I'm just not sure how to judge whether the bird will fit in them or not," she replied without looking up.

"How about you use… a tape dispenser?"

"Why a tape dispenser?"

Jim shrugged. "A post it note cube is too conservative of an estimate and a stapler is too big? A tape dispenser gives him headroom and legroom."

"Ah," Pam said, choosing the box that best housed the tape dispenser. She picked up a few post it notes, covering the box with them and then ripping them off as she changed her mind.

He straightened up and gently tapped his fingers on the desk. "So you sent me a SOS message…"

"Oh! Right," she replied quickly. "Can you hold this down while I glue the other end? I have a feeling it will move on me."

"Sure," he said, holding one end of the box with his left hand and pinning the ribbon down with his right thumb. He shivered involuntarily as Pam's hands came into contact with his. Trying not to act affected by the shift in dynamic, he watched as her hands slid across the ribbon. His eyes were drawn to her bare ring finger and the stomach flipping began again. His head pounded and his heart rate quickened as he tried to bring himself back to earth.

She backed up to admire her work of art, and Jim removed his hands from the box. Pam grabbed a few more materials and asked Jim to hold, fold, or bend things as needed. Each time her fingers brushed up against his, he had to resist the urge to interlock his hand in hers. Soon, Pam took the box back and began working on the finishing touches. He watched as she glued and pinned, making sure that the box wouldn't fall apart when the bird was placed inside.

Jim's eyes remained fixed on her, and she didn't look up once. It wasn't like he expected her to, but he half hoped that she would look up and smile or say something to him. Instead, he blindly reached for the candy jar, popping jellybeans in his mouth as he watched her work. It didn't surprise him that she was putting so much effort into a bird casket. She was a perfectionist when it came to her art, and he enjoyed watching her visions become reality, however painstakingly slow her process was.

"I feel like there's something missing," Pam said suddenly, lifting the box to inspect it.

"Did you decorate the inside?" Jim asked.

Pam shook her head. "I need to make the pillowy stuff for the inside. I wonder if I still have any cotton balls in here," she said, opening her desk drawer and pulling out a bag of cotton balls. She twisted the bottle of glue open and squeezed a few dabs onto a cotton ball, placing it at the bottom of the bird casket. She repeated the process for what seemed like forever as Jim watched. He sighed, unsure of whether he should volunteer to help or just stand back and let Pam work by herself. Finally, Pam finished lining the inside of the box and took two pencils from her pencil cup. Popping two green eraser tops onto the unsharpened ends, Pam attached the pencils to the side and held up the box for Jim to see as well.

"And you even have the two pencils on the side. Nice, Beesly."

She shrugged. "It's the best I can do on short notice. I think it's pretty swanky for a bird, don't you?"

"If the bird was alive, I'm sure he'd be pretty impressed," he replied, popping a few more jellybeans into his mouth. He watched in silence as she closed the box and inspected it one last time. The tension was getting to be unbearable, and Jim was tempted to start talking just to hear some noise. But the initiation of some form of conversation meant nothing in the grand scheme of things; he knew that they still had a long way to go before they would find themselves acting anywhere close to normal.

"I think that looks good. Thanks," Pam said suddenly.

"Sure, no problem. If you need any help with the uh, logistics of the service… you know where I sit," he insisted, trying his best to leave the invitation open for Pam.

She nodded and placed the box next to her. Jim returned to his desk, feeling relieved and defeated at the same time. Had things been normal between the two of them, he would probably be writing a bird eulogy right now. The bird would have a name, a family, and an occupation by the time Jim was finished telling the story of his short little life. He would stop at home on his lunch break, searching his house for any stuffed birds one of his nieces or nephews had by some chance left behind, hoping to incorporate them into the service in some capacity.

But she didn't ask, and he didn't offer. So he brought up a game of hearts and remained engrossed in it until Dwight hovered behind him and played a note on his recorder. Startled, Jim swiveled around in his chair to face Dwight.

"The service is starting now," Dwight said. "Come pay your respects or I'll write you up."

Jim searched for a witty comment in response to Dwight's demand, but he came up short. He grabbed his jacket and followed Dwight outside. He made his way toward the crowd of Dunder Mifflin employees surrounding the box of paper and stood next to Meredith, staring at Pam as the funeral began. Pam gave the eulogy for the bird, and tried her hardest to include Michael's serious loss into the mockable bird funeral.

It was one of the things he loved most about Pam. She was able to see past the craziness of the situation and recognize what someone was truly feeling. Despite the fact that she was eulogizing a bird, Jim knew that Pam was simultaneously acknowledging the pain involved with the loss of Ed Truck.

The sound of Dwight's recorder once again interrupted his thoughts about Pam. He snorted in laughter, covering it with a fake cough. He heard Pam singing along to the recorder and he looked down at his shoes.

Pam never claimed to be a fantastic singer, but Jim was always the first to point out that she was tone-deaf. Sometimes he would listen to her sing to herself as she sorted papers or sketched, reminding himself to tease her about it later. Other times, he was able to make her aware of it right then and there. Jim could recall several times off the top of his head where he jokingly changed the station or turned the volume down in the middle of a song, further highlighting Pam's lack of singing talent. Pam wasn't afraid to fight back, either, teasingly suggesting they find a karaoke bar and sing a duet. _You and I together would be so bad, it would be good_ , Pam had said with a wink and a smile.

It was another thing he loved about her. And another thing he missed about her. It was as though all the memories they had together were rushing back at once, and he couldn't even share them with her. The more he remembered, the more he realized that something had to be done about the state they were in with their friendship. All the little reminders were getting to be too much to deal with.

"You all right, Jimbo?" Michael asked, giving Jim a friendly pat on the back.

Jim looked up and realized the service was over and he was still staring at the bird in the makeshift coffin. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good," he replied. "I'm just gonna head back inside."

"If you need a few minutes—"

Jim shook his head. "I'm all set," he insisted, walking toward the door. He arrived on Dunder Mifflin's floor and headed straight for the break room. He bought a candy bar and slipped it in his pocket before returning to his desk. On the way back he nearly ran over Pam, who was carrying several folders in her hands. She tried to stop herself, but tripped over her own two feet. Jim grabbed her by the arms and steadied her before she fell. Her cheeks flushed as she instinctively brushed herself off.

"You okay, Beesly?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'm fine. Thanks," she answered, avoiding eye contact as she regained her balance.

She walked toward Toby's desk and placed a few items there before moving on to accounting. Jim sat down and pulled his chair in, looking through the folder Pam dropped on his desk. He filed the appropriate paperwork and returned to his computer game. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another much thicker folder. He sighed and opened it, trying to determine where to place it in his desk.

Inside the folder were several stacks of paper held together by oversized paper clips. Each one had a cover page with a title and a detailed illustration of a prank she had thought up. Jim was shocked. Apparently Pam had an enormous amount of time on her hands. He quickly flipped through the pages to find an outline and a step by step explanation for the prank, accompanied by drawings and word bubbles. He was confused, impressed, and heartbroken all at the same time. Did Pam even intend to give him this folder? When did she get all of this done? How long had she kept it?

He began the internal debate of whether to talk to Pam about the drawings or not. He leafed through each booklet, smiling as he saw the brilliant ideas Pam had to offer. The feeling of isolation Jim had been experiencing since he returned from Australia was intensifying with every turn of the page. Finally, he had enough. He grabbed the folder and approached the reception desk.

"Hey, uh, Pam? Can I talk to you for a sec?"

She nodded, putting aside a stack of envelopes. "What's up?"

"You left these on my desk… did you… I didn't… I—"

Pam sighed. "I know things are weird between us. But… you know, Michael said something smart today," she shrugged.

"Oh, yeah? What did he say?" he asked, leaning against the desk.

Pam took a deep breath and looked at Jim. She paused for a moment and their eyes met for the first time in a long time. "He said that you should always tell the people who mean a lot to you that you care, because they could be gone the next day," Pam said with a nod.

"I didn't hear him say that."

"He said it. I think you were in the middle of a game of mahjong."

"It's possible," Jim said, looking down at the folder in his hands. "So did you—"

"It's a sort of peace offering, I guess. I've been working on those for awhile. I meant to give them to you for your birthday, but I figured this is a better occasion. I know we have stuff to work out."

Jim nodded. "We have a _lot_ of stuff to work out."

"But we can at least try to be friends, right?"

"Pam, I—"

"Look, Jim, what I said on the roof… ugh, we should do this another time. I don't want to explain all of this in front of the entire office."

Jim nodded. "Yeah, that's probably not a good idea. We'll, uh, put it on the backburner for awhile," he said, sliding the folder across the desk and walking away.

"Jim," Pam called.

He turned around and approached the reception desk once again. "Yeah?"

"Take those with you. Let me know what you think sometime."

He smiled and grabbed the folder. "Okay."

"Okay." Pam looked at Jim and smiled before returning to her work.

He slouched down in his chair, tossing the folder on his desk. The situation with Pam was growing more and more confusing with every conversation he had with her. He stared at the folder, unsure of whether this new development was a good thing or a bad thing. Part of him wanted to wait until she was ready to leave, and then ask her to get a drink at Poor Richard's and talk things over. Another part of him wanted to let things go until the timing was right.

He could see the folder out of the corner of his eye as he returned to his work. It almost taunted him until he finally decided to stuff it into his messenger bag. Out of sight, out of mind, he thought as he pulled up a spreadsheet and began to enter some numbers. If only the rest of this situation was that simple.

It was about five minutes to five when Jim shut down his computer and grabbed his suit jacket. He didn't linger at the reception desk this time. He got to his car and arrived home in what seemed like a record time. He took a quick shower and sat down on the couch, trying to ignore the messenger bag peeking at him in his peripheral vision as he turned on the TV. Finally, the curiosity got the best of him and he retrieved the thick manila folder from the bag.


	4. Ashamed of Being Broken

Jim walked into the office and tossed his jacket on the back of his chair. He heard voices from behind him in the conference room, but Pam was still seated at her desk. He sat down to check his voicemail and his e-mail, but couldn’t stop himself from wondering what kind of crazy conference room session Michael had planned. More importantly, though, he couldn’t figure out why Pam wasn’t at least sitting with the rest of the staff, attempting to avoid going insane.

He stood up from his chair and walked toward the front desk. “What’s going on in there?”

Pam looked up from her work. “Information session about Diwali.”

“What’s Diwali?” Jim rested his forearms on the desk, but resisted the urge to lean. He didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, and he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to fall back into his old habits again.

“Uh, from what I got out of it, it’s something about Hindus and gods. Kelly’s having a Diwali party and we’re invited.”

“You gonna go?”

Pam shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m kind of tired.”

“Fair enough. So, you’re not in the conference room because—”

“The guys were being pigs. I have a lot of work to get done anyway.” 

Jim nodded. He lingered for a moment, unsure of how to proceed with the conversation. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor.

“You think you’ll go to the Diwali party? I mean, the conference room meeting was weird, but there will probably be really good Indian food. And I know you like tikka masala.”

Pam’s question stopped him in his tracks. He wasn’t sure what to say. “Uh, yeah. Probably. I don’t think I have anything exciting going on tonight. Plus, you know how Michael can be if you miss out on something like this. He’ll go around saying all these stupid inside jokes that don’t really exist, but tries to make you feel bad anyway.”

Pam nodded. “Like that time he threw a surprise birthday party for Todd Packer and only Dwight showed up?” 

“Yes! Oh my God, that was ridiculous. I’m willing to bet the majority of stuff that he said happened actually didn’t. But it was like, three weeks before he let the Captain Caveman joke go.” 

Pam reached for a nearby highlighter and uncapped, then recapped it. She wasn’t looking directly at him, but Jim could see her smiling. The awkwardness was slowly subsiding and their conversation was starting to resemble the ones they used to have. But it still felt weird. He scuffed his foot across the carpet. He knew he missed these moments with Pam, but it was going to take some time before things were back to normal. After all, it wasn’t like he could just say, “I love you, you’re not engaged anymore, let’s give this a shot.” He’d tried that. Well, something similar. And he was shot down.

“So, I’m just gonna…” Jim motioned toward his desk.

“Right, right. Okay, yeah. Work.” Pam nodded and turned toward her own work.

She sounded disappointed, and Jim hated that tone in her voice. He remembered it from when Pam was with Roy; he would cancel the plans she’d been talking about for weeks, but she would try to brush it off like it was no big deal. She’d try to convince herself more than she’d convince Jim; Jim knew better than to buy it. He took a breath and sat down.   
He'd spent hours going through her sketches and commentary the night before. It wasn't like they were just doodles. Pam went so far as to draw maps of the office, small figures to represent other Dunder Mifflin employees and where they sat, and the various items on their desks. Sure, some of the pranks were impossible, dangerous, and/or illegal, but it was the gesture that mattered most.   
The drawings were incredible. Under normal circumstances, Jim would talk to Pam at length about just how much he loved them. But something was holding him back from going to discuss them with her. Attempting to push the thought out of his mind, he opened a spreadsheet that he had been working on and started to make some sales calls. It didn't take long for his eyes to wander to reception again once he was put on hold. Instead of the familiar feeling he got in the pit of his stomach when their eyes used to lock, Jim's eyes darted away from Pam's as his cheeks flushed and Pam quickly busied herself across the room.  
As if they weren’t obvious before, the differences in the way Jim and Pam interacted throughout the day were incredibly obvious now.  
Jim left a message for a client, rattling off his phone number, extension, and a brief message. He hung up the phone, and almost on autopilot, ended up at Pam’s desk once again.  
“Actually, you know, I meant to tell you… I looked through your sketches.”

Pam lifted her head. “Really? What’d you think?”

“Well, some of the execution could use a little tweaking, but the art and the concept is genius.” Jim winked at her. “I knew it would be awesome, but I didn’t expect it to be this level of awesome. You put some time into those, huh?”

“Yeah. I did. I mean, it’s not like I had to clear my schedule or anything, since most of them were done at work, but yeah. Sorry some of them were colored and some of them weren’t. “

“Jeez, why are you sorry? They were incredible.” Jim tapped on the desk. “Even though some of them can’t actually happen.”

“Yeah, we really don’t want to go to prison.” Pam put a strand of hair behind her ear.

They stared at each other in silence for a moment as Jim tried to extend the conversation organically. Ultimately, he decided that it probably wasn’t the best idea. As awkward as it was, this was the sort of thing that would heal itself with time. “But, yeah, I should get back to work, but I just, uh, had to tell you. So.”

“Thanks.” Her smile grew bigger. “I’m glad you enjoyed them.”

“Look out for the goose one sometime soon, all right?”

Pam nodded. “Will do.”

Jim took a seat at his desk. Before long, the rest of the Dunder Mifflin staff left the conference room and returned to their seats. "You're late." Dwight stood at the end of Jim’s desk and checked his watch. “It’s 9:56.”  
Jim sighed heavily. "Thanks for the information, I wasn't quite sure if my watch was wrong or the four times I hit the snooze button did me in."  
"Your sarcasm is not appreciated, Jim," Dwight shot back, raising his voice. "There was a conference room meeting this morning. You did not attend."  
Jim reached for the phone. "Pam gave me the gist of it."  
"You know what? One of these days your behavior will be recognized and punished."  
Jim shrugged, dialing some numbers. "I guess you're right. I can only get through life on good looks alone for so long."  
Dwight opened his mouth as if he was going to say something else to Jim, but when Pam transferred a call to Dwight's extension, the tirade stopped. Jim glanced in Pam's direction, casually rolled his eyes, and turned to his desk.  
She didn’t look back.

-

“So are you coming tonight?” Kelly cornered Jim in the break room later as he attempted to walk back to his seat.

“Uh, well, I’m not really sure,” Jim stammered, stepping back just a bit.

“Diwali only comes once a year, Jim. This is big. Like… bigger than my party for _Pirates of the Caribbean 2_ ’s release. And you know how hot Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom are. I need you to be there, Jim!”

Jim raised his eyebrows. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Kelly looked over her shoulder and gently put her hand on Jim’s arm. “Is this about Pam?”

“Is what about Pam?”

“This whole, ‘a woman broke my heart, so I’m moping’ thing. Is it about Pam?” Kelly took Jim by the hand and pulled him toward a table. “Because if it is, I am a great relationship counselor.”

Jim raised his eyebrows, attempting to stifle his laughter. “You are?”

“Yes. My friend Becky broke up with her boyfriend a month ago, and now she’s engaged to another guy. We just talked it through, and sorted out her feelings and stuff. Sort of like therapy, only with ice cream and hot guys.”

“Thanks for the offer, but uh, I’m not really into hot guys. So.”

Kelly shook her head. “No, no, Jim. It would be about hot girls for you. Duh.”

“I’m still gonna have to say no. But I appreciate—”

“Are you kidding me? I’m your friend. I’m _trying_ to help you here. You’re being an ungrateful jerk!” Kelly crossed her arms and stood in the doorway of the break room, preventing Jim from returning to his seat.

Jim knew he was going to regret it the instant he said it, but in order to get her to move, there was only one thing he could say. “You know what, why don’t I come to your Diwali party to make it up to you?”

Kelly shuffled away from the doorframe. “That’s much better.”

-

Jim arrived at the Diwali party, feeling slightly embarrassed that he was manipulated by Kelly, but more embarrassed that he was _that guy_. That guy who tried to shoehorn a friendship on the mend into something he wanted it to be. That guy who just threw his feelings out there like in any of a myriad of romantic movies, and expected her to just abandon everything she’d known for years to be with him. 

And worse, he was now that guy who stood in the corner of the room while everyone else was dancing, watching and waiting to see if Pam would show up. 

He grabbed a plate of food and took the whole experience in, trying to forget about Pam. It was easier said than done. Sometimes, when he was around people from the office, he remembered little inside jokes he and Pam had about them. _Bet Dwight will end up on Survivor or Fear Factor, or one of those shows. As the antagonist. Maybe Angela was kicked out of the convent. What if Kevin was the inspiration for Peter Griffin on ‘Family Guy’?_

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pam make her way onto the dance floor. Her hair was down. He liked when her hair was down. He smiled to himself as he watched her dorky-dancing and enjoying herself. Jim grabbed another plate of food and decided to let things happen organically. Pam would come around when she was ready; after all, he hurt her badly. And as much as he wanted to talk to her and fix it, it was going to take some time.

He watched as Michael proposed to Carol in front of the entire crowd, and took some comfort in the fact that at the very least, he was not _that guy_.

After a frustrating conversation with Dwight, Jim decided that maybe it was time to head home. He walked into the hallway, attempting to retrieve his shoes, when he felt a hand wrap around his arm. He turned around to see that it was Pam.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a sec? You’re the only person I can say this to.”

_You’re the only person I can say this to._

Jim nodded. “Sure, we’ll go over there.” 

The two walked to another corner of the hallway, away from everyone else, and Pam sat down on the floor. She leaned her back against the wall and stretched out her legs, pointing and flexing her toes as Jim attempted to sit down next to her.

“Ow.” Jim stood up and tossed someone’s abandoned high heel toward the pile of shoes. “So, what’s up?”

“I don’t know what it was, but in some weird Twilight Zone-y moment, Michael tried to kiss me out there.”

“Wait, what?” Jim had no idea how to respond to that. There were so many thoughts running through his head. Michael tried to kiss Pam? Did he miss? When she says 'tried', exactly how successful was he?

“I stopped him before he could even get close, but… it’s just sad. I don’t know. The whole thing is so weird.” Pam tugged at a string on her sweater.

“That is weird. Did he make you feel like, uncomfortable or anything?” 

She shook her head, laughing. “No, not really. Well, no more than usual. This sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

“It could sound worse, but it’s definitely not good.”

Pam shrugged. “I mean, I get that he was upset about Carol. But what made him think that proposing tonight would be a good idea? I mean, can he just not read her? Granted, I don’t know if they’ve like, talked about getting engaged before, or something, but… they came in _costume_.”

“Yeah, she had that grumpy-face on all night. He was kind of oblivious to the whole thing. How did he not notice that? This night keeps getting weirder.”

“Why, what happened to you that was weird?”

Jim shook his head. “No, no, trust me. Whatever happened that was weird definitely isn’t as weird as this. This would win the Nobel Prize for weirdness if there was one.”

“Nobel Prize?”

Jim laughed. “You know what I mean. So tell me again what happened. And start from the beginning.”

“Well, I went out to make sure he was okay, you know? Like, that he wasn't bothering any random people with his sob story, or drunkenly trying to steal a boom box to pull a Lloyd Dobler.”

“That reference is spot on, by the way.” Jim stretched out his legs. “But where would you find a boom box around here?”

Pam shrugged. “I don’t know. With Michael I’ve learned to never underestimate him. He’s capable of a lot.”

“True. Continue.”

“And then he said something about us both being people who had broken engagements, and how he knows exactly what I’m going through now. Like we now have this strange bond or something.”

Jim laughed. “He was never engaged! I’m pretty sure he just decided to propose to her right as he did it! In fact, I’m sure the thought entered his brain, bypassed any filters that normal human beings have, and he just blurted it out.”

“So, you mean, he acted like Michael Scott?”

“Exactly.” Jim laughed, resisting the urge to scoot a little closer to Pam. He was enjoying the flow of the conversation; things were going exactly as they should be. This was just like he remembered. Jim watched as Pam continued the story, gesticulating for effect, and doing her best (still bad) Michael impression as she gave him a word for word recap of their conversation on the front steps.

“And then I told him that I thought something would happen tonight, too. And I guess he took that as some sort of sign that I was definitely talking about him. And he just slowly started to lean toward me, eyes closed, and I realized what he was doing.” Pam shook her head. “And then he asked me for a ride home. I told him I’d give him a ride home if he sat in the back.”

“Wait, what did you think would happen tonight?” Jim couldn’t help but ask. It probably wasn’t wise, but he wanted to know. Maybe it was something with Roy. If there were roadblocks to their possible eventual reconciliation, Jim wanted to know now, before he put his heart out there again.

“It wasn’t anything even related to his situation. I mean, it’s obvious that he really just can’t interpret feelings properly, you know? Some guys just… can’t do that for some reason. It’s like, whenever you’re there for them, as a friend, they want to try to hit on you, or something. It’s crazy! I mean, it’s Michael, so— ” Pam stopped mid-sentence. “Jim, I didn’t mean it like that. Not with you, I mean. I just—”

Jim stood up. “No, no, it’s totally cool. I get it.” 

“I wasn’t talking about you, honestly. I wasn’t trying to make you feel uncomfortable. I’m so sorry. That definitely wasn’t what I meant.” She stood up and followed him to the shoe pile.

Even if she wasn’t talking about him, he realized what a jerk he was for what happened on Casino Night. He put her in a bad spot. And then just left. And then came back, expecting everything to be okay. “Yeah, I know. It’s cool, don’t worry about it. I can give Michael a ride home, if you want.”

Pam put each hand up the opposite sleeve of her sweater and hugged her arms close to her chest. “Are you sure? I don’t mind, really.”

“No, no, it’s… I’m going to that area of town anyway. So. Don’t worry about it, Beesly. I got it.”

“Okay. Don’t feel like you have to. He got himself into this mess, you know.” Pam looked down at the pile of shoes.

“I don’t. It’s okay. I guess I will just… see you at work, then.” Jim grabbed his shoes and went to look for Michael. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ruined things for good. Maybe things would have to get worse before they got better, but every time he started to feel like staying in Scranton was a good idea, he ended up second-guessing himself.

After listening to Michael try to ‘bond’ with him using the same ‘heartbreak and loss’ angle he did with Pam, Jim dropped Michael off at his condo. Jim made his way back to his apartment and drafted an e-mail to David Wallace.


End file.
